


Show Yourself

by ErisBaek



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dealing with relationship stuff, Fluff, Found Family, M/M, Romance, The Mando's helmet is removed, oblivious boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22809784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErisBaek/pseuds/ErisBaek
Summary: Part of the Mandalorian's Creed is not to remove your helmet, or let anyone remove your helmet, lest you can never put the helmet on again. The force of gravity doesn't obey by these rules, and when blue eyes finally meet brown, what can become of Corin and Din?
Relationships: Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 98
Kudos: 353





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Family and Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21758992) by [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/pseuds/LadyIrina). 



> First and foremost I want to say go read Family and Home because what would you be doing here if you haven't. That fic, and all it's works, have consumed my mind for weeks on end and I frankly do not know how to handle it. But I am not complaining.
> 
> Second, I want to say I know next to nothing about Star Wars lore, and such. I have only ever seen the Mandalorian and the Force Awakens. Research will be done to get by for this fic, but frankly, I will be flying by the seat of my pants.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

They had arrived in drones, hundreds of them marching upon the village they had seeked sanctuary in, blowing houses and huts to pieces, shooting anything that moved. Fires burned around him, and they had done their best to fight off the worse of the attacks, but there was nothing more Corin and the Mandalorian could do. Their number one priority was the Child, and they had to get out, swiftly.   
They had ran, weaving through the destruction, the Child curled in Corin’s arms, protected with Din holding up their retreat behind. The sound of his blaster only fired a few times, as they made their way to the end of the village, towards the thick line of trees that could offer some safety, and retreat back to where the Razor Crest was stationed.    
They didn’t see it coming, neither of them, until the ground was disrupted from underneath them and in a flash, both Corin and Din were flung away from each other. Arms gripped around the Child, shielding it from the worst of the blast, as Corin was lifted off his feet and flung into the dirt. The air was forced from his lungs in a strangeling gasp, dark spots appearing within his line of sight. There was a telltale ringing in his ears, blocking out whatever noises were around him. 

“No,” He found himself struggling to say, as he immediately made the move to sit up. Something in his side hurt, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care as he glanced down at the bundle in his arms. Relief rushed through him when he saw the Child stared back at him, ears drooped, dark eyes filled with all the worry in the world - but otherwise uninjured.    
Corin had protected him well. Bad luck couldn’t have the Child.   
Struggling to his feet, he dared a glance around. Dark smoke billowed up in covering plumes around them, and small fires were scorching the ground. The smell of sulfur clung heavy in the air, nearly suffocating, but there was an immediate lacking presence.   
His Mandalorian. 

Urgency surged within Corin’s veins, adrenaline pumping new life into his aching bones, and he began to move. The wound in his side stung, but he ignored it. The Child was safe in his arms, but now he had to find Din. He couldn’t retreat without him, he  _ couldn’t leave him.  _   
His lungs burned within the smoke filled air, eyes watering, as he searched every inch of scorched land. The blast had been devastating, the ground cracked in various places. It was a miracle he himself had survived it - good luck, he should say, but all it did was settle dread low in his stomach. Did Din make it out?   
_ Of course he had, _ Corin quickly reassured himself. If he survived it, then the Mandalorian did as well. It was just a matter of finding him. 

A chirp sounded from the bundle within his arms, and Corin’s attention diverted from his search to the Child. Large eyes glanced up at him, then out, a clawed hand rising to point in the general direction of what seemed to previously be a small hut of some sorts, now smashed into pieces, the wood collapsed in on itself.   
A small gasp was sucked in, and Corin wasted no time in picking up his pace to investigate. The first sign of anything came in the appearance of a boot, sticking out amongst the damage, and a small cry of relief left him as his eyes trailed up the exposed leg to see the shining armour of Beskar.    
“I have to put you down,” Corin said in haste, setting the child down to free up both hands. Din didn’t move, and his heart was pounding. He needed to get him out of there.

Glancing only once more at the Child, Corin approached the destroyed hut and began to yank away piece after piece of broken wood. He feared one could have impaled Din, but as he pulled them out, revealing more of that shining armour, it seemed to have protected him from such things. Climbing up, another bout of relief settled the anxiety in Corin when he noticed the rise and fall of Din’s chest. Unconscious. He could deal with unconscious.    
Corin continued his task at hand, freeing his Mandalorian from the debre, eyes ever vigilant for severe injuries. A piece tossed from here, and there, an arm unpinned, but just as Corin was beginning to finally start lifting Din upwards, to pull him out, he froze. 

Din was waking up, a gloved hand moving up slowly as a groan left him. Corin’s eyes followed the movement of his hand, as it made the trek to swipe at his helmet, but to the Mandalorian, and Corin’s horror alike, his helmet was gone.   
Brown eyes met blue for the first time, and Corin’s breath was stolen away as his eyes took in the sight of Din’s face, the golden skin, the faint shadows of facial hair, the creased lines made over years of furrowing his brow. Pure dread began to fill those brown eyes, and panic began to rise within Corin.  
This isn’t how it was supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to see the Mandalorian’s face like this - if he even ever did. It was supposed to be on Din’s terms, when Corin finally proved himself worthy of it. Bad luck usually only struck Corin, but now it daunted Din Djaren as well.   
  
“Corin…” Came his name from that deep tone, without the filter of his helmet, Corin didn’t know how to react.    
So he did the only thing his brain could process how to do. With a winded back right hand, he swung forward, and knocked the Mandalorian unconscious again with a perfectly aimed punch. Regret quickly rose up, knowing they were still in danger, and they still had to make it back to the Razor Crest - but Corin would rather deal with the situation later, when the Child, Din, and himself were safe. 

  
The shine of the damned Beskar helmet was easy to spot amongst the rumble, and he picked it up and brushed it off, giving it the worst scornful look he could muster, before sitting the unconscious body of Din upright, and sliding it back on his head, securing it in place. If he was lucky, maybe the Mandalorian would think this all a dream - but Corin knew luck didn’t like him enough, and Din was far too smart for that. In addition, he knew he wouldn’t be able to forget the look of those brown eyes boring into his, he knew he wouldn’t be able to act like he didn’t know what the Mandalorian looked like underneath the helmet. 

“I’m sorry,” he found himself saying, as he turned around and brought Din’s body to rest against his back, and despite the protest of his aching body, he lifted him up and in the air. The slight size difference between the two wasn’t optimal, but it would have to do until they were safe.    
Corin picked his way out of the ruble, to find the Child sitting patiently. When he noticed Corin, he made a chirping noise, and the former struggled to pick him up with the weight of the Mandalorian on his back, situating him to rest upon his shoulder, leaning back against the body of his caretaker, before his hands returned to grip at Din’s thighs, holding him up.   
“Come on, let’s go. We’re not safe yet,” he said softly, and began to make his way as swift as possible into the woods, disappearing with the smoke as his cover. 

Corin’s heart was heavy. He knew now that his time with the Mandalorian would be drawing to a close. There was no way he could stay around now that he had seen his face. With that thought, his grip tightened just slightly, unable to imagine his life without Din and the Child now. All he could do now was remember the moments they had together, the brief touches, the kind and encouraging words, and now, brown eyes and golden skin. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Album Listened to While Writing: Science Fiction by Brand New
> 
> Hey! Wow. Wow wow wow wow wow. Can I just THANK YOU for the support I've received already for this. It has been many months since I last wrote anything, but I was so inspired that I just couldn't not write for this ship.   
> I decided to write a second update rather quickly for you guys. I hope you enjoy it just as much as the first. Please don't be afraid to drop a comment!

By the time Corin had managed to make his way into the Razor Crest, the wound in his side was burning like hell, and there was a considerable amount of blood soaking his shirt around the gash. The weight of Din on his back caused him to ache in places he didn’t know could ache, and the Child had grown so restless - that at one point, Corin had to raise his voice to ensure he stayed atop his perch on his shoulder, leaning against the Mandalorian. He couldn’t slow down, however. They weren’t safe yet.    
Corin was quick to open the sleeping compartment on the Crest, and settle the still unconscious Din down on the cot within. Concern wormed its way back through him, noticing how the Mandalorian was still unconscious. Had he really punched him that hard? A small groan left Corin at the trouble he was going to be in when Din woke up.   
He wasn’t sure if he would make it out alive after all. 

“Come on,” He spoke to the Child now, and settled him down in the crook of his arm as he swiftly made his way up to the cockpit, making his way to settle into the pilot seat. He set the Child down in his designated seat, and then peered at all the controls with hesitation. Din had shown him how to do this. He had shown him how to get the old girl up and flying, and how to set a course to a designated location - but Corin had never actually practiced. Now, his nerves were singing in the fear that they wouldn’t get out of here on the account of his own incapability.   
He wished he hadn’t knocked Din unconscious, but he had panicked. He didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t want to have the conversation of what would happen to him, what would happen to  _ them  _ now that Corin had seen his face. He would delay it as much as he could.  
He wasn’t sure if his heart could handle it. 

Sucking in a breath, finally Corin mustered up the courage and began powering up the engines of the Razor Crest. He glanced out the windshields to see them roar to life, orange heat disrupting the air around them. Trembling fingers pressed buttons, and finally, he took a grip on the steering gear.    
“Here we go,” he said under breath, which earned a coo from the Child beside him, causing Corin to glance over and grant him a shaky smile, before turning his focus to the task at hand. Slowly, they began to rise out of the sky. It wasn’t as smooth as if Din was piloting, but gradually they rose above the tree line, and then Corin dared give the Razor Crest some speed, and they were heading up, up, farther into safety. Breaking past the planets atmosphere in no time, Corin didn’t hesitate to punch in coordinates that he knew would be safe.  
They would head towards the Covert. 

Leaning back in the pilot seat, a sigh of relief left his lungs, and he finally turned his attention to the wound on his side. Something, most likely shrapnel, had sliced through his shirt, and left a clean cut just above his hip bone. It had stopped bleeding, now that he wasn’t straining, and he was relieved to see it wasn’t terribly deep, but it still stung. Blood had soaked the frays of his shirt around the wound, and had begun to crust around it as well. A frown marred Corin’s face, and he brought a finger down to poke at the wound, almost in a disapproving manner.  
“Let’s go down, you need to eat and I need to clean this,” he spoke to the Child, and made his way to stand up.   
The Child raised his arms up, and Corin easily lifted him up into his arms, and made his way down from the cockpit, landing light on his feet. He glanced where Din was lying on the cot, and the Child nearly slipped from his arms at the sight of the Mandalorian sitting up, visor pointed to stare right at Corin. 

“You’re awake,” he found himself saying, and he could hear the hesitation - fear - within his own voice. It took everything in his power to not flinch at the sound of it.   
But Din said nothing in response. He barely reacted, in actuality. He just continued to stare, with those brown eyes hidden behind the dark visor of his Beskar helmet. Corin swallowed the lump quickly forming in his throat, panic causing the hairs along the back of his neck to stand on end. Is this how it was really going to be now? He knew… He knew he couldn’t stay, but the Mandalorian was going to be this cold towards him as well? All that work, all the supposed friendship built up between them obliterated just like that. It stung worse than any wound Corin could ever receive. 

Corin swallowed once more, and straightened his shoulders, pulling together whatever faux composure he could summon to speak next.   
“I’m gonna feed this little guy. He’s probably starving,” he informed, words as void of emotion as he could manage, before he turned on heel, his back towards the Mandalorian, as he walked to where they kept their food storage.   
They, their, them, us, we. They had become one unit in such a short amount of time. A partnership, with a child that they shared the mantle of caretaker together. Corin dared to call it a family, but that’s what it felt like to him. It was home, it was where he belonged, and he felt weary at the mere thought that he couldn’t have this anymore. He knew it was too good to be true. No good luck such as this could come to a person like him. He never deserved it. Now, he knew all he could do was cherish whatever time he had left.

A curious chitter sounded from the bundle in his arms, and Corin looked down into the big, dark eyes, that pierced through him as if the Child knew exactly what was running through his head. All he could offer was what he hoped was a reassuring smile, before he set the Child down, and began to pull some food out for him. Once it was prepared, he crouched down and offered it.  
“Here you go,” he said softly, “don’t make a mess with it, okay?” He encouraged, with a gentle pat of his hand to the Child’s wrinkled head. A small giggle bubbled up from within the kid, as he hobbled a bit away to plop himself down and begin eating. 

Corin breathed out a breath of a laugh himself and straightened himself up. The Child always managed to send warmth through him, and calm his nerves. He chalked it up to being an ability of the Force, and not just his cute demeanor, and those big eyes. After another moment of watching said kid, Corin chanced a glance behind him and noticed the Mandalorian had finally stood himself up, and was watching the Child as well, but as if feeling Corin’s gaze upon him, he turned his helmet and stared right back.  
Dread returned just like that.   
This time, however, the Mandalorian didn’t ignore him. Din began to make his way towards Corin, causing him to tense up, shoulders going rigid as he anticipated the inevitable, the yelling, the banishing from the ship. At least he knew Din would be kind enough to drop him off on some planet, not just shoot him out into the vacuum that was space. 

“Din-” Corin was about to begin, but was interrupted by the light brush of gloved fingers against the wound on his side. He sucked in a breath as he felt his eyes widening, and he glanced up to peer within the dark visor, and he knew the eyes behind weren’t focused on his face.

“You’re hurt,” The Mandalorian finally spoke, voice soft, concerned. It struck Corin down to his very core, and he couldn’t help the shiver that ran through him.   
How could… How could he act like this? How could he still speak so softly, with so much concern for Corin after what had happened? He had ruined everything. He had seen his  _ face.  _ The very thing Mandalorians swore to not reveal. 

“Din,” Corin tried again, his voice louder, and the Beskar covered head raised quickly. Corin could almost see the piercing gaze behind it, eyes narrowed.    
“Don’t,” Din urged quickly, almost desperately. “I’m not ready for this discussion. I haven’t completely processed what happened. I just know what's going on in that head of yours. You’re blaming yourself, but it’s not your fault.   
We’ll go to the Covert. I’ll talk to the Armorer. I’ll see if I am still able to wear this helmet. So just please, please,” he had never heard Din beg like this before. Corin didn’t know what to do. That feeling only intensified when the Mandalorian brought his gloved hand up to rest against the back of Corin’s neck, and slowly, almost unsure, lean his head against the cool Beskar helmet.   
What had become so natural for them, caused Din to hesitate now. Corin’s heart wanted to break.

“I already set a course for the Covert,” he softly informed, not wanting to break the moment between them. Din’s hand squeezed gently where it rested, an acknowledgement that he had heard, maybe even a notion of thankfulness. Corin was just happy he could do something right, now matter how small.    
A few more moments of silence filtered in between them, before Din slowly raised himself up.  
“Let me dress that wound for you,” his words held finality within them, and Corin knew there was no sense in arguing with the Mandalorian, so he shuffled to sit while Din got supplies out, and moved to his side where the wound was on.  
“It’s not bad,” he immediately commented from where he was crouched beside Corin, filtered voice more subdued than it usually was. To hear him so affected bothered Corin to unexplainable degrees, but he kept mum as he slipped his shirt up enough to reveal the wound without the hindrance of his shirt.   
“We both go lucky, it could’ve been worse,” Corin rationalised, then quickly bit his lip as he reanalysed his words. Luck had screwed them over, actually. Sure, they had come away with just a few scratches and bruises, but what had happened was worse than any deep set wound.   
The Mandalorian seemed to share this sentiment, as he didn't respond. 

The touch of ungloved hands would always come as such a shock to Corin, the warm skin of Din brushing against his own. He gulped once, and chanced a glance down, to see the golden skin of his hand dabbing away the dried blood with silent precision, before he dressed the wound swiftly. It was over before it had even begun, leaving Corin unable to savour the feel of the other’s touch - something he silently longed for.   
“You’re done,” Din said, packing up the supplies before slipping his gloves back on his hands. Corin mumbled his thanks and let his shirt drop back down, fidgeting uncomfortable where he sat. The air was tense, and awkwardness that hasn’t hovered between them in months suddenly rearing its old, ugly head. He wanted to sneer, but it was just air, what would sneering at it possibly do?

“When we land,” he began, Din’s head turning visible from the corner of his vision, “I think we should part ways,” better to nip it in the bud before Din himself told him to get out. Better to save him that heartbreak early, to prepare himself.   
What he wasn’t prepared for, was the growl of deep emotion that left Din from beside him, and the hand that suddenly gripped at his thigh tightly.

“Like hell we should.” 


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Album listened to while writing: Ex'Act by Exo
> 
> Holy heck guys. This is my most kudos story here on AO3 and I am TOUCHED.   
> I am not the proudest of this chapter here, I must admit. Some parts I like, others not so much, but I hope overall you enjoy it! Please leave a comment if you're so inclined <3
> 
> Din's POV next chapter!

The grip on Corin’s thigh halted all coherent thoughts. He felt his mouth fall open, agape, as he just stared at the gloved hand, pressing into the muscle concealed by his pants. There was so much anger in that one, short sentence, and Corin felt like he was going through an emotional rollercoaster.   
Din didn’t want to part ways with him? Surely that couldn’t be. What logical reason did Corin even have to stay anymore? Everything the Mandalorian ever held dear to him had gone out the window the second he decided to take Corin aboard. He was taking up space, has been for a while - and despite the fact that he knew the Mandalorian now considered him a  _ friend,  _ even that had always seemed too good to be true for Corin. 

“Stop thinking for just a damned second,” Din’s voice cut through his thoughts, rough around the edges, clearly worked up. He had never heard the Mandalorian speak like that before, and it grabbed Corin’s attention immediately.   
He looked up, his eyebrows creasing in the middle as he moved to lay his hand atop Din’s. A hesitant move, but the Mandalorian’s grip on his thigh eased a little at the action.

“I just don’t understand…” Corin admitted, voice softer than he’d like it to be. Weak. He didn’t know how to handle the situation, and it made him feel weak.

Din let out a sigh that could only be of someone who was suffering, and Corin winced at the sound. He had upset him. He didn’t mean to. He just wanted to make things right in the only way he knew how - by disappearing. It was hard to do in such a tight space such as the Razor Crest, even harder when Din didn’t like letting Corin out of his sight. He was nothing but trouble, nothing but…   
Fingers intertwining with his stopped Corin’s thought process yet again, and his blue eyed gaze turned its attention to the hand at his thigh, now upturned to hold his own hand gently. He didn’t even feel the movement, the readjustment.

“You’re thinking again,” Din spoke once more, voice much softer now. “Stop thinking, just listen. Can you do that?” He asked, and Corin could do nothing but nod, still hyper focused on the gentle holding of his hand. 

“What happened wasn’t your fault,” Din began, voice matter of fact, imploring Corin to believe him, “it was an accident. You seeing… You seeing my face was bound to happen eventually, granted this wasn’t the way I necessarily wanted it to go, but it happened. You can’t undo it, I can’t undo it, it is what it is.”  
Corin could feel his mouth opening to protest, but a tight squeeze of his hand stopped him in his tracks.  _ Hmph,  _ he thought,  _ what an effective way to keep me quiet.   
_ “You don’t get to skimper off now just because it didn’t happen the way either of us wanted to. You don’t get to blame yourself, and run away because you think I don’t want you here anymore. Corin, I would want you here with, or without the helmet. The Child needs you, I… we need you.   
I will speak to the Armorer. I will see what I have to do to still honour the Creed, but if this helmet is no longer allowed to rest over my face, then that is something I have to live with - but it is not your fault. It will never be your fault.”

The Mandalorian concluded his little speech by pulling his hand from Corin’s, and reaching up to grip at the back of his neck, pulling him down so cool metal rested against Corin’s forehead.   
“Please believe me,” he whispered softly, almost inaudible past the Beskar.   
Corin’s heart pounded in his chest. So much was said in so few sentences, yet his heart raced at the idea that he actually was needed. He was wanted, despite his screw ups. Din wanted him here with the kid. His whole life he had been held accountable for every little thing that went wrong in his vicinity, but in here, with these two that he called family, he wasn’t blamed.   
Emotion rose within him suddenly, and he had to force his eyes shut to contain it. Words were hard to form, especially the longer the Mandalorian held him in the Keldabe kiss. Finally, he managed to mutter a simple “I’ll try.”  
That simple response roused a breath of a laugh from Din, and finally, he picked up his head.    
“I guess I can settle for that,” he gave in, his fingers gripping tightly once more against the back of Corin’s neck before dropping down, and him standing up.   
Corin’s line of sight followed him, before he too stood from the chair he had been sitting in. Just as quickly as the tense air had filled, and lingered within the Razor Crest, it dissipated like that. He guessed Din just had that effect. The ghostly touch of his firm grip against Corin’s thigh only confirmed that. 

\---

Seated in his designated seat in the cockpit, Corin was growing anxious. They were nearing the planet that housed the Covert, a name he had forgotten already, and he couldn’t keep himself from worrying. Across from him, the Child made a quizzical sound, almost as if he could understand the inner turmoil Corin was going through, as he turned big eyes to him.  
Corin offered him a reassuring smile, not wanting to worry the little one. That was the absolute last thing he wanted to do. 

Din hadn’t spoken in quite some time, and that only grew to the gnawing feeling within Corin. Was he stressed? Was he feeling just as anxious, or even more than Corin? This… incoming conversation would impact the rest of his life, no doubt. Of course he was worried.   
“Hey,” Corin tried, trying to keep his tone as calm as he could, “everything’ll be okay.”    
He was well aware the words weren’t as encouraging as he had originally hoped them to be, because Corin  _ didn’t  _ know if everything was going to be okay, but he wanted to try and believe, put some faith into the possibility that  _ yes they would.  _

To his surprise, Din gave his full attention to Corin at that moment, turning his seat around to face him. Now, he could see that the Mandalorian was visibly tense. His whole body was rigid, and Corin knew behind that visor would rest a frown, forming lines in Din’s golden skin.   
“Everything  _ is  _ okay,” the Mandalorian suddenly spoke, reassuring despite how he sat. “What did I say? With or without the helmet,” he reminded Corin of his previous words, and he found himself nodding, a bit exasperated.   
“Yeah, yeah, I know bu-”  
“Good,” he was effectively cut off before a rebuttal could leave his lips, and Din stretched his hand out to pat once, twice, against Corin’s knee before he turned his chair around and focused on piloting once again.   
That was twice he was shut up. 

\---

The ease at which Din could land the Razor Crest always amazed Corin. He figured that's what happened after years of piloting the same ship, but still - she was an old gal, and he could never imagine himself being able to put her down as easy as the Mandalorian did. They had landed a short walking distance away from the entrance to the Covert, and Corin wasted no time in standing to gather the Child up into his arms, before making his way down to the cargo hold.   
He wanted out, to stretch his legs, to get the day over with, to see the outcome. 

Din was much slower coming down, obviously not in much hurry as the sound of his heavy, boot clad feet dropped down from the cockpit. He opened the cargo hatch with a push of a button, and to no one’s surprise - two Mandalorians stood waiting for them.

“Back so soon, troublemaker!” Came Paz’ boisterous shout, followed by the quiet snicker of Raga.   
“I was hoping to go a few more years without seeing your mug again,” he added, then his attention turned to Corin.  
“However, I don’t mind seeing your  _ ad’ika  _ and  _ cyar’ika _ ,” he concluded, offering a wave of his glove hand. The Child made his own chirp in greeting back, and Corin began his descent down the ramp, Din following behind. 

They stopped themselves in front of the two Mandalorians, and Paz crossed his arms over his chest.  
“What’s this? No snide remark back?” He questioned, looking Din up and down through his own visor to assess if he was injured.  
To this, Din said nothing, instead looking at Raga.

“Can you take Corin and the kid to the place in the market, get them a bite to eat? I have business to take care of,” he asked of her, to which Raga nodded.  
“Of course. There’s much to catch up on,” she said, and Din’s shoulders sagged a little - almost relieved.  
“Paz, walk with me,” he added, and without so much as a glance in Corin’s direction, he began to walk towards the Covert. 

Corin tried not to feel offended at the seemingly dismissing gesture. He knew Din was going through a rough time. This was a situation he probably never thought he’d be in, and now, he made his way to speak with his leader about his future as a Mandalorian. A drawn out sigh left Corin, and he looked down at the Child in his arms to offer some form of strength he simply didn’t seem to have at that moment. It helped, staring into those reassuring eyes, somewhat.  
“Come on,” Raga’s voice suddenly piped up, and she nudged Corin with her shoulder.   
“Let’s go get you fed.” 


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Album listened while writing: I Am a Dreamer by Park Hyo Shin 
> 
> Shoutout to the people who guessed what the outcome of this meeting with the armorer would be!  
> I do read ALL your comments, so if you want to leave one, I encourage you to!!!
> 
> Back to Corin's POV next chapter <3  
> Thank you all again!

“Are you and Corin fighting?” Paz began when they were alone, Raga leading Corin off elsewhere like he had asked. Of course Paz would think something as mundane as fighting with Corin would be the cause for the tenseness within Din’s body, the dread that settled low within his core.   
“No,” he easily replied. At least he hoped after the discussion they had they were fine. It had always been difficult to curb the former stormtrooper’s worries, the fear that every little thing that went wrong was his fault. It was hard to break conditioning - especially when that was all you’ve ever known. Din would never, could never blame him. 

“Something happened. You wouldn’t be back so soon if not,” Paz pointed out, and Din gritted his teeth. The heavy infantryman always talked too damn much, especially when a situation didn’t call for it.  
  
“It doesn’t matter.”

Paz stuttered to a stop, before his big helmeted head turned to look at Din through a black visor.   
“Listen, trouble,” his deep, gravelly voice started, and it took everything out of Din not to let out a suffering sigh at the knowledge he was about to suffer an earful.   
“You’re not just caring for you anymore. You’ve got two other people under your damn wing, one of ‘em being a kid. You gotta let people know what’s going on. The way you pawned Corin off, and walked away without a word? You didn’t see the look on his face. It wasn’t right.”

A frown pulled at the corner of Din’s lips, and he glanced off. He hated listening to reason from the big brute next to him, but sometimes reason is what left the man. It annoyed the Mandalorian to no other degree, but he couldn’t argue. He  _ didn’t  _ see Corin’s face. He made it a point not to. He knew that if he had walked away from him then, without looking at him, it would make it a bit easier if the outcome was something he couldn’t handle.   
He didn’t want to go back to Corin with bad news, but it was likely going to be the endgame of this little story. He didn’t see a way for them to get out of this unscathed. 

The two Mandalorians took a turn, and a stairwell appeared before them. They had fallen silent, Din opting not to respond to Paz’s criticism. He didn’t have the emotional integrity to do it at that very moment, and the other didn’t push him.   
Slowly, they descended, step by step. Apprehension was rising quicker within Din, the closer they got to the forge, where she would be.   
“I may not be a Mandalorian after today,” Din finally spoke, as Paz came to a stop to let him go on alone.

"What did you do?” The other asked, and Din was surprised at the faint lilt of anger he heard behind the words, and he swallowed, throat suddenly feeling dry.    
“I… It is up to her to decide whether I have disrespected the Creed or not. I have no control from here on out. But if this is the last day I may enter this Covert, then I want to thank you for… everything you have done. You and Raga both, for me and the kid, and Corin.”  
There was a scoff beside him, and Din swung his head around to look at Paz, narrowed brown eyes concealed by his visor.  
“Sentiment does not suit you, troublemaker. Get in and speak with her, make your case, and protect your right to wear that bucket,” Paz instructed, complete with a tap of his gloved hand against the side of Din’s Beskar helmet.   
“This is the Way,” he concluded, and Din found himself echoing those words with a nod, before the heavy infantryman walked away, his loud steps retreating down the hall, leaving Din so incredibly alone. 

He stood, and stared at the Mythosaur signet that rested above the arch entryway, as if it was staring right back at him, taunting him. He had lived by the Creed since he was a boy, and had adorned a helmet for so many years. The last person to see his face had been his caretakers from his childhood, and he had never found the desire to slip the helmet off in the presence of another in so many years, until Corin. So many things have changed, in such a short span of time, and Din found his emotions in a whirlwind - yet he didn’t regret a single thing, he found. He didn’t regret rescuing a stormtrooper from execution, and welcoming him on board to travel with him and the kid.   
Whatever outcome came from speaking with the Armorer, he knew he would never regret a single thing.   
With that, Din stepped forward, and inside the forge. 

She was a presence that screamed authority. The air she walked with seemed to tremble, and she never paid it any mind, as if unbothered by everything, and anything. It had always unnerved him, yet granted him a sense of awe he felt no where else.   
Din settled himself down in a small seat, facing the flames of the forge, where she moved about with a grace that only one of her calibre could ever accomplish. The Armorer made no move that he was acknowledged, as she finished the task at hand, before finally, she spoke up.  
“Back so soon?” Her easy tone invited conversation, while being demanding at the same time, as she echoed the words Paz previously spoke. It made Din sit up straighter, preparing himself for the explanation ahead. 

“I’ve come to discuss something of importance with you. Something that I hoped I would never have to discuss, yet here I am,” he began, and that seemed to garner her undivided attention, as she finally spared a glance in his attention.  
“Then speak,” she instructed, and Din quickly nodded, continuing.

“Me and my… family, were hunkered down on a sparsely populated planet for sometime. Everything was going well, until one day it wasn’t. The Imps are still after the foundling, and they got a ping on our location, and ambushed in the early morning.   
We almost made it out unscathed, but there was an explosion and in that explosion my,” he took a heavy breath, fists curling up tightly where they rested against his thighs, “my helmet came off.” 

Din heard, more than saw, the laying down of the tools the Armorer was previously holding as she slowly made her way to stand in front of him. He didn’t dare look up. He didn’t have it in him to look up.  
“Did someone see your face?” She asked, voice still that easy tone.   
“Yes,” he responded, a bit breathless.  
“Who?”  
Hesitation, a lick of dry lips, before Din could speak again.  
“Corin Valentis,” he spoke his name, the words soft. Even in such a tense moment, it was a form of strength for the Mandalorian.  
“Your bonded?”

The question caught him off guard, and Din looked up quickly to see the Armorer’s head tilted to the side, almost in a quizzical manner. He gave a swift shake of his head.  
“No, we’re not bonded,” he quickly corrected, feeling warm in the face. 

“I see,” she said, and began to walk away from him, leaving him feeling a bit confused. The tension he had felt for a moment seemed to dissipate, and he didn’t understand  _ why.  _ Someone had seen his face, after all, but for some reason the Armorer seemed less concerned than he did. 

“What do I have to do?” He asked now, too anxious to wait for her to continue without prompt.   
“Was he the only one to see your face?” She questioned, as her gloved hands lifted the forging tools back up, seemingly prepared to go back to work as if she had never been interrupted.  
“Yes,” a simple one worded response. 

“There are only two options, Din Djarin. You kill him, or marry him,” her words were so matter of fact, as if they didn’t just steal the breath from the Mandalorian. His whole body seized into stillness, like time had stopped around him.   
How could he do  _ either  _ of those things? How could he?

“Will you kill him?” She asked, glancing up to him once more, looking for an answer.   
“No!” Din was quick to respond. He couldn’t even fathom the thought of killing Corin. He’d rather give his own life than ever do that atrocity. Not only that, but the Child would  _ never  _ forgive him. 

A moment of silence lulled between the two, before the Armorer let out a soft sigh, barely detectable if not for how closely Din was listening for her next words.  
“Do you love him?”   
The question proceeded to consume every thought the Mandalorian had. His mind, once racing, focused in on that one, singular question. Did he love Corin?   
His eyes closed, because he knew - without much thought - the answer to that question.  
“Yes,” he replied, voice a whisper, winded.

“Then it is decided. You must marry Corin Valentis or risk disrespecting the Creed.  
This is the Way,” the Armorer said, and Din knew he was being dismissed.

“This is the Way,” he echoed before standing, straightening his shoulders, and leaving the forge, only feeling slightly better than he did before.  
On one hand, he was still a Mandalorian. He wasn’t forced to remove his Beskar, and place it into the forge. On the other hand, he had to somehow ask Corin to marry him - not knowing how the other felt, or if he even would ever want to.   
Din desperately needed a drink. 


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Album(s) Listened to While Writing: A Modern Tragedy, vol. I & II by grandson
> 
> Hello guys!   
> So I have been distraught over the rollercoaster of emotions that is Family and Home, and I imagine a lot of y'all are as well! LadyIrina is too kind to us. A queen, a blessing.
> 
> Anyway. I hope you all are staying healthy and safe in these scary times! My college extended my spring break by two whole weeks so I have so much freetime on my hands that I may, or may not finish this whole thing in that length of time. (Probably not since I am lazy)
> 
> Just a reminder I do read all your comments, so feel free to drop one! <3

Corin sat on a stone bench, secured into the wall of the cantina. The remains of food was laid out of the table before him, and the Child sat at his side, picking at the remnants that still lingered on his own plate, having mostly been devoured rather quickly. Raga sat across from them, a cup of water in front of her - untouched, as well as whatever food the waiter had offered them.   
Corin fared no better. He found it difficult to eat, too busy worrying about what Din and the Armorer would be discussing. He picked, his fork poking here and there, bringing small morsels up to his mouth only to be chewed far too slowly. He knew Raga was watching him, he could feel here eyes from behind the visor, peering - almost in a worried manner. He didn’t want her to worry. He was sick of making everyone worry, that’s all he ever seemed to do anymore. 

Corin wondered briefly what colour Raga’s hair was, her eyes. Was she human like himself and Din? 

The shake of his head, to clear the thoughts, caused the Child too look up at him skeptically. Corin offered him a smile, before reaching up a hand and patting his head gently.  
“Just thinking, kid,” he assured, which seemed to do the trick as the Child went back to his plate, reaching out for what could only be called a crumb, before slipping it into his mouth with a small, satisfied coo. 

“Coin for your thoughts?” He heard Raga’s voice pipe up, from where she had been relatively silent while they ate. Corin raised an eyebrow, before lifting his shoulders up into a shrug.  
“Just worried, anxious. Thinking about different outcomes,” he explained shortly, followed by a suffering sigh.   
“I raised the option of us parting ways, but Din… he didn’t seem to like that,” he admitted. 

It was truly a talent, one he knew had to be learned over years, and years of wearing a helmet, to portray a frown without one seeing the other’s face. But Corin knew Raga was frowning behind the bucket on her head, and it caused him to glance off, not knowing what he had said wrong. 

“No shit he didn’t like that,” he heard the curse and his mouth fell open in surprise, blue eyed gaze returning to the female Mandalorian. 

“You’re part of his  _ aliit _ , Corin. His  _ cyar’ika.  _ I will never understand how it is so hard to get through your head sometimes,” she shook her head to emphasise her words, breathing out a sigh of her own.    
“I think you all overestimate how much I actually  _ mean  _ to him,” Corin tried to counter, suddenly feeling increasingly small the longer he sat around the Mandalorian. “I’m just an extra hand on the Crest, and with the Kid. Sure, he considers me a friend, but that can change so quickly I know not to get my hopes up,” he explained, hands moving with his words, trying to ensure that Raga understood where he was coming from, the point he was trying to make. 

A gloved hand raised to swipe down the front of the helmet the woman wore, and he knew it was a motion of frustration, could imagine those fingers pinching at the bridge of her nose wondering why she had been tasked to deal with him for the time being. He wanted to apologise. He didn’t mean to be so difficult, he just had trouble understanding what not only she saw, but Paz as well. They both called him Din’s  _ cyar’ika,  _ and where Din showed no outward signs of it bothering him, he knew it had to get to him on the inside sometimes, if not all the time. 

“Listen, Corin, I’m about to tell you something and I need you to actually lis-” Raga never got to finish her sentence, as the approach of heavy bootsteps alerted them of a familiar presence. Corin’s head lifted swiftly, peering across the cantina to find the shine of silver beskar, and the pure, unadulterated relief that swept over him when he saw the helmet still placed firmly of Din’s head, rested as if it had never been touched, was enough to knock him off his feet if he hadn’t been sitting. 

“Hey,” he was quick to greet, voice a bit breathless when his Mandalorian finally arrived at their tableside. Din looked down at him, head tilted slightly to the side, before his attention went to the Child. He proceeded to pick up the little green bean, enough for him to slide into the booth next to Corin, and place the Child into his lap, where he seemed all too content as he let out an excited squeal.   
“You barely ate,” Din pointed out, gesturing with a head motion towards Corin’s barely bothered plates.   
“Wasn’t hungry,” Corin immediately responded, which earned a snort from the other Mandalorian at the table.

“He was too busy worrying to eat more than a few crumbs,” Raga informed, leaving Corin feeling a slight brush of betrayal at how quickly she had sold out his emotions to her fellow Mandalorian. Din didn’t need to hear about Corin’s worrying - he probably didn’t even care to.  
“That so?” Din piped up beside him, before bumping his shoulder gently into Corin’s.  
“No need to worry anymore. The worst is over. I’ll tell you the details when we’re in better company,” he offered, tone borderline teasing as he offered a glance towards Raga.

“My company is far better than others,” she easily defended, “plus, you’re the one that asked me to take them out here. Just doing a favour,” she reminded, crossing her armour covered arms across her chest. Corin somehow knew she was glaring once more.  
Din raised a single hand, a wave off gesture.  
“You’re right. Thank you,” he offered, and she gave a nod in response before sliding out of her side of the table, standing up straight. 

“I’ll leave to get your room sorted out ahead of time. I assume you three will be staying at least for the night? No need to head back so soon. Let the kid run around a bit, play with the other foundlings,” Raga suggested, and it was Din’s turn to nod.  
“That sounds like a good idea. Thank you, again,” he spoke and Raga offered a half-hearted wave before stalking off.

Corin wasted no time before he shifted his undivided attention to Din, looking at the Mandalorian that was far too close to him in the short stone bench.   
“So?” He asked, imploring for some information about the meeting with the Armorer. He simply got a swift shake of a head in response.  
“Not yet, we’ll talk later. Now please, eat,” Din commanded, reaching out to slide a plate of food directly in front of Corin, an emphasising with a firm point.   
Patience was not a virtue Corin held dear to him, but with some of the heavy worry he felt lifted from his shoulders, he was able to manage a few bites to satisfy his Mandalorian. 

\-----

Turns out later did not have a set time, and Corin was growing impatient. They had made their way back to the Covert, where Corin now sat - alone - in the trio’s shared bedroom. Din had disappeared with the kid sometime ago, and Corin took it as an opportunity to clean up, wash, get ready for a night’s rest.  
He had just expected the Mandalorian to be back by the time he was done, but still, the sound of heavy boots never made their presence known. Was he avoiding him? That couldn’t be right. He said the worst was over, so there would be  _ no  _ reason for Din to avoid him, unless the Armorer simply informed Din that he could no longer travel with Corin. What if that was the thing that he needed to tell him? Was that why he didn’t want to say anything in a public setting, concerned with how Corin would react?

He could feel his breathing coming a bit laboured at the idea that this was finally it. They were going to be parting ways, and Corin couldn’t even come up with a solution with how to prevent them from splitting up. He didn’t know how he would be able to carry on without Din, and the Child. He has only ever known two things in his life, being a Stormtrooper, and being a part of the family the three of them had built. If he couldn’t have his family, and he knew he couldn’t go back to being a Stormtrooper, then what was there to Corin? What could he ever  _ be?  _

His breath suddenly caught in his throat, a choked sob threatening, but Corin quickly bit it back. He couldn’t get worked up. It would just make everything so much worse. In his panic, he almost missed the sound of the door opening, and the welcomed sound of bootsteps.   
Ever attuned to Corin’s emotions, Din immediately knew something was wrong, and he was in front of the other within moments, the Child tucked under his arm, dozed off. 

“Corin?” He spoke, voice soft - barely above a whisper, to ensure he didn’t rouse the sleeping kid, but his concern for Corin was clear in that simple call of his name.  
  
“Please,” Corin found himself saying, reaching out for what he wasn’t sure, until one hand found purchase on the fabric that rested between Din’s pauldron, and arm gauntlet. He sucked in a heavy, shuddering breath, knowing he was being ridiculous, but unable to curb and control himself.  
“Please don’t tell me to leave.” 

A small gasp was sucked in by Din, obviously surprised at the small, but monumental request. The Mandalorian stood up quickly, and Corin felt his hand slip from where it was gripped, leaving him panicked, but Din was crouched beside him once more within moments, simply having to lay the Child in his crib to sleep.   
“Corin,” he began, gloved hand sliding up, to slide through the short tufts of hair at the nape of Corin’s neck, to rest there. A move so familiar, so utterly comforting.   
“I’m not telling you to go anywhere. I will never tell you to leave,” he promised, voice still soft, but with a lilt of finality. He didn’t want this point argued, and Corin would oblige him this time, as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against the coolness of the Beskar helmet.

A moment lapsed before Din spoke again, his voice suddenly wary, a bit hesitant.   
“I’m about to ask you something very serious Corin,” he began without moving from the position the two of them were held in. His voice was so close. If the helmet wasn’t there, Corin knew he would feel the brush of the Mandalorian’s breath tickling against his nose.   
“I talked to the Armorer. I told her everything that had happened that day. I explained how my helmet came off, and that it was only you who had seen my face. She seemed… surprisingly unbothered, as she presented me with my only two options,” his grip at the back of Corin’s neck suddenly tightened, almost afraid he would withdraw.

“I either have to kill you, which you know damn well I would never do,” Din explained, before a long silence suddenly fell in between them, stretching.  
Corin was growing anxious. What was the second option? If disposing of him was one extreme, what could be the next?

“Din?” He suddenly urged, after the Mandalorian went another long moment without speaking, and he made a move to sit up, pull away from the Keldabe kiss, but Din wouldn’t let him, pressing him closer. Corin swore he could hear the other suck in a shuddering breath, before finally,  _ finally,  _ answering.  
“Or I have to marry you.” 

Time seemed to stutter to a halt around the two, and Corin felt his mouth fall open in shock. Marriage? Marry the Mandalorian? This… It… 

“Let me marry you, Corin Valentis,” came Din’s voice again, pleading and hopeful.  
Corin didn’t know what words were in that moment. Not with such a gentle, yet firm grip at the back of his neck, and a man - a beautiful man - before him, asking him for his hand in marriage. 

He wasn’t sure what kind of luck this was. 


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So - I am not happy with this chapter. It becomes mostly filler because I did not know what to do for some reason. I know where I want to take the story, but my brain could not supply a way to get there for the time being. The conversation in the beginning had to be here, however, so I am posting this up.  
> It is probably the shortest chapter I have written so far, and I am so sorry! Also sorry for the longer wait. This whole quarantine thing is taking its toll on me. I hope everyone is staying safe and practicing your social distancing!
> 
> That being said - this is split POV, and there will be a small time skip in the next chapter, just to get past the filler days.
> 
> As always, comments are always appreciated!! I read a l l of them!! And if you guys want to follow me on tumblr, I'm @erisbaek. I post Mandalorian stuff occasionally, but I'm mostly a lurker!

Corin’s mind was racing a mile a minute. He knew Din was waiting for a response to his question, a heavy question, but he didn’t know exactly how to say yes. Corin had to remind himself this would be a marriage of convenience, not love, not want. No matter how close the two of them had gotten, they hadn’t crossed the threshold that Corin silently longed for - to be a bit more than friendly. He thought back to all that time ago, it felt like ages, where he had kissed the golden skin at Din’s wrist.  
It was then, he imagined, that being the Mandalorian’s  _ friend  _ had become a bit more difficult. 

Corin’s tongue darted out to wet his suddenly dry lips. Din had not moved from his position in front of him, but in truth, he didn’t want the Mandalorian to shift away. He was such a grounding presence, in all forms, that when he was close - an overwhelming sense of calm would wash over Corin, amongst other things.  
“If it will help you, yes. I’ll marry you,” Corin responded softly, finally, but that hand tightening around the back of his neck was a telltale sign that wasn’t the answer Din wanted, not the answer he was expecting.   
Corin’s eyes widened, a bit flabbergasted, what did he need to say?

"Corin, this is a big decision. I don’t want to whisk a part of your life away. You may meet someone down the line that you will want to be with, but if you marry me, we are bonded for life, it is a vow you take to raise the Kid together, and be one together.   
When you say yes, I have to know that… that,” Din suddenly looked off, unable to finish his sentence. 

There were so many things Corin wanted to say at that very moment. So many words flickered across his mind, but he was a coward, and he knew he could never say them. He could never say how there would never be someone else, cause it was only the Mandalorian that was there, that will always be there. He could never say how he wanted nothing more than to raise the Child together, for the rest of their lives. He wanted this. He knew he wanted this, deep within his very core, but he could never convey that. Not when Din didn’t, couldn’t, feel the same. Not when he was asking Corin because  _ he  _ was the one to see his face, so he was the one who had to pay the price.   
In another life, maybe. 

Suddenly, Din’s grip at the back of his neck disappeared, and Corin let out a noise of surprise. He watched as the Mandalorian stood up, shaking his head, light glinting off the Beskar helmet.   
“I’m sorry I asked you so suddenly,” Din explained, a gloved hand reaching to rub at the back of his own neck.  
“Think about it. I’ll give you some time. I’m sure the Armorer doesn’t expect a yes, or no, immediately. I think we’ll stay here a few days, let the kid be around other foundlings. He always likes that, yeah?” He suggested, looking to Corin for agreement or disagreement.

Slowly, Corin nodded his head.  
“Sounds like a good idea,” he agreed, and watched as Din turned his back, pointing towards the refresher door.  
“I’m gonna go shower. Feel free to wander about. They know you here,” he informed, and disappeared behind the door without another word. 

Corin wanted to curl into himself, disappear, just for a moment. He wanted to evaporate to give himself time to think, to figure out how to convey the yes to Din’s question, without sounding desperate, without giving away his heart. He never thought a person like him could be in a situation like this. How did one even handle it? What kind of luck was this? Bad, good? Was there something in between good and bad, that could leave a sense of understanding within Corin? Or did this have nothing to do with luck at all?  
So many questions, unanswered. 

\---

_ I have to know that you want to be with me. _ _  
_ Words unsaid, because Din was a coward. He feared rejection, amongst other things, but knowing that rejection would come from Corin, scared him more than he ever imagined. Opting to not finish his sentence had seemed like a smart decision, one of self-preservation. He knew it had saved Corin some grief too. And hadn’t they had enough of that? Grief? 

He stood, staring at himself in the mirror within the refresher. A large crack ran along one corner of it, but it didn’t obstruct the view of himself, unhelmeted. Shaggy brown hair fell against his brow, ruffled from the removal of his helmet. Dark eyes peered at himself, gaze trailing the features of the face he kept hidden, has kept hidden the vast majority of his life. So many things had happened in such a short span of time. Corin, the first person to have seen his face since he swore the Creed, has turned his life upside down, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Din still couldn’t believe he had asked him for his hand. It would have been so much easier to go their separate ways, act like he had killed him, but instead had left Corin in the safety of someone he trusted, or somewhere he deemed fitting for the former Stormtrooper to live out the rest of his life.   
But Din knew, deep down, he couldn’t live with himself if he did that. He wouldn’t be able to stand the look the Child would give him every time he woke up and realised Corin wouldn’t be coming back. He wouldn’t be able to stand the ache in his own heart knowing that he wouldn’t have that extra firing power at his side, that warm smile to gaze upon whenever the other found something utterly delightful. The Mandalorian knew he couldn’t stand not having the staple that was Corin Valentis in his life. 

Din glanced down at his ungloved hand, where it gripped the edge of the sink he stood at. Slowly, he lifted his hand up, turning it over, to gaze at his wrist. Such a little gesture started something that spun out of his control. Maybe, even, the day Din had seen Corin on his knees, blaster to the head - poised for execution, was when fate really took its grip on both of them. Just maybe. 

Time seemed to bleed by with Din standing in front of the mirror, and he knew he needed to shower. Corin would be wondering why he was taking so long, and there was no reason to make the other worry more than the Mandalorian already did, so he finally stepped back, gazing at himself for one more long moment, before unlatching the rest of his armour, shucking off his clothing, and stepped under the warm, steady stream of water. 


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Albums Listened to While Writing: She Is and Story Op. 2 by Jonghyun
> 
> I wrote this chapter quite quickly and I apologise for the slight cliffhanger?  
> But anyway  
> Next chapter is gonna be angsty. Just a fair warning! I also want to quickly apologise that the baby isn't here a whole bunch. I for some reason am struggling to write him, since he doesn't do much speaking! 
> 
> As always, comments are appreciated. I love reading them so much!  
> And if you want to interact, or have any questions, I'm on tumblr @erisbaek!

Days passed in relative peace at the Covert. There was little action, between the Child not being around much - too engaged in playing with the other foundlings than to even spare a second glance at his father and Corin - and Din helping out as much as he could, obviously happy to be home for an extended period of time, being able to chip in a hand when needed. It kept him busy, something Corin was well aware he appreciated. He never seemed like the kind to sit around for too long, idle.   
Corin on the other hand, felt useless. On occasion, Raga would pop her head into the room he and his Mandalorian shared, and ask him to join her for a trip to the market to get some things, but outside of that, Corin did  _ nothing  _ but work out, play with the kid, and eat and sleep in between. Bringing it up to Din was out of the question. In the past few days, since he had asked him for his hand, Corin was anxious to even speak to the other.   
Din, on the other hand, went out of his way to make sure everything was fine between the two of them. He would strike up a conversation with Corin every time he returned to the room, the same tone of voice he’s always used with the former Storm Trooper showing him that nothing had changed. So why did Corin think that everything did?

Stepping out of the refresher with a fresh towel over his neck, hair still damp, Corin was surprised to see Din lounging one of the beds in the room. The Mandalorian had left with Paz not even an hour ago to do who knows what, yet he had returned. Corin didn’t think he’d be back already.

“Hey,” he offered a greeting, and Din’s visor turned to look at him, but he didn’t speak. Corin shuffled his feet a bit, as he rubbed at his dripping hair, soaking up the water that clung to the strands.   
Din slowly sat up in his bed, and motioned Corin over with a wave of his hand.

“Huh?” Corin made a quizzical sound, but made his way over at the direction, hovering at the side of the bed with Din looking up at him.  
“Well, sit down,” he finally said after a moment of the two just gazing at each other. A gloved hand pointed to the space in front of Din on the bed, and Corin made a sound which could only be one of confusion. Din didn’t say anything, instead he just simply waited, until Corin finally lowered himself onto the mattress that dipped under his weight. 

His confusion only grew when Din reached out towards him, and grabbed the towel from around his neck. Slowly, almost as if asking for permission, he raised the towel to begin rubbing at the shorter hairs along the side of Corin’s head, and then it clicked, and his heart began to pound within his chest.    
Din wanted to dry his hair! That… The notion suddenly felt a bit too intimate, personal, but Corin couldn’t help but lean into the gentle touch of the towel, and Din’s slow movements. That seemed to be all the conformation the Mandalorian needed, as he scooted across the mattress just to be a bit closer to Corin, so his arm wasn’t as extended, and he began to properly dry the other’s hair. 

“Tilt your head down,” Din commanded in a rather gentle voice, and Corin found no reason to disobey. He slowly lowered his head, and Din began to dry the top of his head, fingers working the towel through the damp strands of black hair. It was soothing, surprisingly so, and Corin found his eyes slowly closing.  
Din worked silently, almost as if he was hyper focused on the task at hand, and in a time seemingly too short for Corin, the experience was over. 

The towel was placed over his neck once more, and Din cleared his throat, singling for Corin to look up.  
“All done,” he said, and the other could hear the smile in his voice as the Mandalorian stood up.   
“I’m gonna go pick up the womp rat, give Barthor a break. Do you need anything?” he asked, and Corin shook his head quickly.   
“Alright, I’ll be right back.” And then he walked out of the room, leaving Corin’s heart racing still, with no sign of it actually slowing down anytime soon. 

\-----

Corin was bolted awake from a rather nice slumber by the opening of the bedroom door. Sitting up quickly, he peered through the dark at the person who had woken him. To his surprise, it was Paz, standing like an imposing force at the doorway. Corin glanced over to the other bed in the room, and could see Din rising slower than he had, no urgency in his movements.

“Get up,” Paz suddenly barked out, and Din looked up at him, a glare behind the visor. “One of our supply ships was intercepted, and you’re being thrown on the retrieval team.”  
This information, said in a strained voice by the typically teasing and humorous Paz, had Din moving. He was on his feet, and strapping on armour far quicker than Corin had seen him in some time. It only made Corin get up quickly as well, and start preparing.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Din asked, voice stern. He had paused in his movements to watch Corin, but his voice effectively made him stutter to a stop, and raise his eyes to meet Din’s brown ones, hidden behind the Beskar.   
“I’m going with you.” It was easy to say. Corin wouldn’t be forced to stay behind, and he tried his best to convey that in the way he looked at the Mandalorian, in the way he spoke. “The past few days, I have been sitting around feeling incredibly useless around here. Now, the opportunity has presented itself for me to do something, and I am going to do it.”    
Corin’s words presented no room for argument, and he was proud of himself to keep the wavering out of his voice that he felt in his knees, but he held his ground, and waited for what seemed like agonising moments before Paz from behind clapped his hands together.

“Great, the more the merrier. It’s me, you, troublemaker, and Raga. Just like old times, yeah?” The heavy infantry Mandalorian said, a bit of his former humour returning.  
“Meet you outside in ten. Make sure you leave your  _ ad’ika  _ with Barthor. I don’t think it will be wise to bring the little one with us this time around,” he said, before the sound of his heavy boot steps retreating up the hall were heard. 

Corin quickly placed the last of his armour on, before looking up at Din once again. Had he stopped staring at him at all? He cleared his throat, ready to speak, but the Mandalorian’s quick steps forward, to place his hand familiarly at the back of his neck had Corin silenced.   
“I don’t like this.” Din began, leaning his helmet against Corin’s forehead.  
“I don’t know what we’re running into yet, and you hopped aboard without knowing as well. You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone here, Corin. Not anymore. Why don’t you stay, look after the kid an-” 

Corin was the one to pull back from the embrace, taking the smallest of steps backwards so he was still close, but he could look the Mandalorian face on.   
“I go where you go. The Child will be safe here, we don’t have to worry about him. We agreed, you wouldn’t leave me. I’m going with you,” he reaffirmed, and Din seemed to have no argument, for he simply sighed, and glanced down.  
“Alright. But you worry about  _ you  _ Corin. No hero stuff. Let’s go, so we don’t have the kid behind too long.” He said, and gave one last squeeze at the back of Corin’s neck before letting his hand fall to his side, and stepping out into the hall.

Corin quickly followed behind, and the two walked side-by-side outside of the Covert, emerging into the early morning light. The sun had just begun rising, casting different colours of pinks and oranges across the sky above. He thought it looked rather beautiful, not a cloud in sight to hinder the view.    
But Din kept walking ahead, so Corin had no time to stop and admire as he caught back up in a few easy strides. The two approached where Paz and Raga stood, weapons in hand.

“We good to take your Razor Crest?” Raga asked.   
Din seemingly anticipated the question, by the simple way he nodded and began to lead the small group to the old gal that sat parked a bit away. With the press of a button on his vambrace, the ramp for boarding began to lower, and Paz and Raga wasted no time in walking up, and settling in the cargo hold of the ship. Din was patient, and waited for Corin to walk up beside him.  
“Remember, no hero,” he reminded, occupied with a bump of his shoulder and Corin scoffed.  
“No promises,” he said, before stepping past the Mandalorian and up the ramp, where he passed Paz and headed towards the cockpit to take up his resident seat.

He vaguely heard Paz shouting for Din to hurry up, and shortly, his Mandalorian appeared in the cockpit as well, Raga and Paz squeezing behind, now keen to fill them in on the details.   
With a few presses of buttons, the Razor Crest roared to life, and Din spun around to look at Paz directly.

“Where too, and what are we retrieving.” 


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Hi! I am so sorry about the long wait between chapters. Quarantine has been kicking me where the sun doesn't shine, and it is not a good time. I hope everyone is being safe, and healthy, however!
> 
> So here's the next chapter and I want to apologise in advance: I am not good at writing action. Never have been, most likely never will be.   
> Despite that, I still hope you all enjoy the chapter!
> 
> Remember to leave a comment because I love reading them! Especially in this time of social distancing <3

“One of our supply retrieval ships got shot down on the backwater planet, Tenai.” Paz began to explain as Corin settled into his designated seat, watching the two standing Mandalorians with interest. Their supply ship got shot down? No wonder this was a matter of importance. The Covert relied heavily on the supplies their Mandalorians fetched and brought back to them, not able to leave in vast numbers. 

“Not only was the ship shot down, but we believe the team that went didn’t make it,” Raga piped up, and a sense of dread suddenly settled in Corin’s stomach. So this wasn’t about the supplies - it was about the fallen brothers or sisters the Covert had lost. He suddenly felt out of place amongst the three Mandalorians huddled about, and he breathed out a silent sigh, glancing out the cockpit at the expanse of sky in front of them as they continued their ascent. 

“Tenai,” he heard Din say under breath, before the Mandalorian shook his head. “I’m not familiar with it. Do you know what we’re going into?”   
Paz gave a shrug of his shoulders. Obviously not much information was given to the small team, but it didn’t seem to phase the group much. It wasn’t uncommon for them to run into something blind, with just vague information.

“Speculated mercenaries, looking for some quick cash. There isn’t much on Tenai. It’s a heavily wooded planet, with sparse villages here and there, but the insane wildlife doesn’t really let much settling go on. The supply team was picking up medicine made in a village there. It’s one of our newer stops, only started adding it to the supply route a few months back. This is the first time anything has happened on the planet, so we’re guessing they were followed to Tenai - where they were shot down.” Raga offered an explanation, accompanied by a wave of her gloved hand. It seemed like a valid story. Anything could happen on a planet that no one in the cockpit seemed to know much about, and Corin was always bad with his planets, even with the years of being a Storm Trooper.

“You got the coordinates?” Din spoke up, looking between the other two Mandalorians expectedly. They had been rising into the sky without a point of destination, but now Paz offered it up as if Din hadn’t been waiting. Corin watched as he punched them in, and sat back into his seat as they broke through the atmosphere - rising into the darkness of space.  
“We’ll go settle down in the cargo area. Don’t want to be standing when you jump into hyperspace,” Raga said, and was the first to back out of the cockpit - Paz following quickly behind. 

The absence of the Child was noted mentally by Corin. His gaze found the empty seat where the little green bean usually occupied on the journeys, and it was odd to not have his presence aboard the Razor Crest.    
“I have half a mind to ask you to stay behind on the Crest,” Din suddenly said, his voice breaking Corin out of his thoughts, and his gaze turned towards the Mandalorian.  
“We don’t know what we’re getting into. It could be the easiest retrieval mission, or it could be our deaths. Two Mandalorians were taken out, that I know for sure. The people who did it could be long gone with the supplies, but they also could have hung around. I don’t…” Din rubbed a finger over his wrist, an absent minded movement that Corin had noticed long ago.  
“I want you safe,” he explained, voice strained. “I want to know you are safe. I want to know someone will always be going back to the kid when these things are said and done.”

Din wasn’t looking at him as he talked about safety, about coming back alive, as if Corin was the only one the Child would be happy to see. A frown marred his face, almost disturbed by the thought that Din thought Corin above himself, when he could never even dream to amount to who the Mandalorian was.   
He reached out at that thought, and laid a hand on Din’s shoulder. He felt the man tense under his touch, surprised, before he slowly turned his helmeted head to gaze at Corin.

“You’re not leaving me behind, remember? We both go, and we both come back alive. Don’t make me explain to the Kid what happened to his dad, alright?” Corin asked, voice stronger than he felt. He could play an umpteen amount of scenarios in his head, where so many things could go wrong. But he knew he had to make it back with Din. He couldn’t imagine seeing those big, dark eyes peering at him with a sadness that Corin could never, in a million lifetimes, explain away.   
“I-” Din began, but quickly cut himself off with a brisk nod, which caused Corin to withdraw his hand quickly, suddenly feeling as if his touch was too much.   
“You’re right,” Din followed up, turning back towards the controls, visor pointed towards the moving light of hyperspace. “We do this together,” he agreed. 

\----

Twelve long hours passed before they touched down in a clearing, not far from the location of the downed supply ship. It showed up as a little blip on a screen that Paz gazed at, where he stood waiting for the cargo ramp to lower.    
Corin double checked the blaster holstered to his side, his armour secured around his body, a vibroblade strapped to his leg. He was vigilant, ready for whatever could attack them, as the group descended in one motion down the ramp. 

Paz took up the front, his blue armour sticking out like a sore thumb, and Raga followed closely behind. Din lagged, however, preferring to keep in step with Corin. His blaster is strapped to his side, much like Corin’s, and his rifle is gripped in his hands, poised and ready. His head turns right to left, vigilant, keeping an eye out for any shifts around them as they move.    
Corin gives himself a moment to admire how tenacious Din is when they are working. How he embraces the Mandalorian stereotype - battle hardened warriors. The Mandalorian is deadly, he knows that, has seen it in action. Din would be Corin’s first pick in battle, forever and always. 

“It's through this thicket of trees!” Called Paz from the front of the line, where he had lowered his heavy blaster gun, the large weapon fitting just right in his hands.   
Corin brought his own blaster up, a surprising feeling of anxiousness rising in him. Fear of the unknown, that's what it was, not knowing exactly what they were walking into. 

Trees had begun to close around them, the Razor Crest an obscured sight through the trunks that loomed high, before splitting into green canopies. The distant chirping of birds could be heard, complimenting the crunching bootsteps upon the undergrowth as they continued forward. Leaning over just slightly, Corin could see the beginning shapes of a ship take form, the dark metal twisted near one of the wings. A crash landing?   
It only took a moment from complete silence aside from the wildlife, for all hell to break loose.

Heavy fire began to pour at them from the trees, and Paz returned it with vigor, firing forward where the downed ship lay.    
“They’re hiding in the brush!” He shouted, his booming voice carrying back to Corin and Din, who both poised and began to fire at unknown assailants, unable to be seen from where they kept cover behind the trees.

Raga rose from the ground, her jetpack propelling her upwards, blaster in hand as she moved and fired down. There were shouts of pain, yells of attack, and heavy fire from seemingly all directions. Corin felt his breathing come a bit too fast, as he rationalised the situation they were in.    
A head popped out from a tree, and he fired his blaster, downing the man. Where one man fell, it seemed like two more replaced them. They were going to be overwhelmed at this rate!

The sound of an explosion rocked Corin to his very core, and his eyes averting to see smoke rising through the trees. It was a hesitation that would have proved fatal if not for Din, coming up to his side like a guardian angel, and tugging him away from the sound of a blaster shot, that then grazed against the exposed part above Corin’s hip. He hissed at the pain, but gave it no more thought as Din continued to drag him along, firing his blaster, rifle slung over his back - the rate of fire too slow for use in situations like this. Corin collected himself, and began to fire at whatever moved as they condensed themselves closer together, Raga in the air, Paz tearing through trunks and assailants alike, and Din not letting go of Corin’s wrist.   
It was another blaster shot that struck Corin, in a place all too familiar, a time back before he felt accepted by the Mandalorian, a time when he had no place to truly belong, a time when he didn’t know what Din looked like under the Beskar, or what the Child liked to do for fun.

The pain made him stumble back, and cry out, and Din’s grip tightened as he whipped around to see what had happened. His body language said it all. Concern, and anger, both emotions Corin knew the Mandalorian felt strongly. Din tugged him in, close, shielding him as Corin swayed. He felt blood soaking his shirt. Armour only did so much when it stopped just below his midsection.    
“Raga!” Came Din’s strained voice, urgent and pleading, as he didn’t slow in his firing of the blaster. They seemed to be making a dent in the onslaught - the firing from behind the trees coming from almost on central location now.   
“Raga!” Din shouted again, voice almost a cry as finally, the gray and red clad Mandalorian heard him, and lowered herself to the ground, Paz covering her with heavy fire.

“What?” She asked immediately, her body not turned completely towards them, as she offered a shot towards the trees.  
“Corin’s been hit,” Din explained, and Corin raised his head to peer between the two. He knew what Din was gonna say, he  _ knew. _

“I’m not leaving,” He quickly said, because sure he was hurt, but he couldn’t leave them! He wouldn’t leave Din!   
“Like hell, Corin,” Din hissed at him, his grip on the other’s wrist far too tight. “You’re bleeding. You can’t stay here. You can’t fight like this,” he gritted out, before focussing on Raga again.   
“Take him back to the Crest. Me and Paz will finish here. If we don’t radio in within ten minutes, leave.”

Raga’s body jerked at the command, her head finally turning towards Din.   
“ _ You can’t- _ ” Corin began to protest, hoping Raga would back him up, as she seemed opposed to the idea, evident by the stretch of silence between them   
But, to Corin’s horror, she reached out for the arm that Din clung to.

“Alright. Ten minutes,” She confirmed, and Corin fought her grip, but the wound was proving to be too much, as he faltered.   
“No, no, Din,” Corin begged, Raga stepping around him to secure an arm around his waist. His legs felt shaky, unsteady, as Din stepped up. The Mandalorian allowed himself the briefest of moments to lean his forehead against Corin’s, a shaky breath leaving him.

“Trust me,  _ ner ka’rta _ ,” he breathed out, before stepping back and, with one last look, turning back toward the onslaught, blaster fire beginning again as Din moved closer to Paz’s location.  
It was the parting Raga needed to haul Corin up into the air, one arm firing her blaster to ensure their retreat was successful, the other secured around Corin.

“No! No, Din!” Corin found himself shouting, “Raga please put me down! Put me down!” he continued, voice scratching at his throat the farther they got from the thicket of trees. When the Razor Crest came into view, Corin felt horror strike through him.   
Ten minutes. Ten minutes and they would leave. They would leave Din and Paz behind, just like that. He couldn’t. He had said they would go back together. He had assured Din, and now - because he was stupid. He had gotten shot, and Din would rather risk his life than to see Corin die. He would rather injured, and worthless Corin to go on than himself - who had a Child and a Covert and everything Corin could never have. 

“Raga, please,” Corin begged one last time as she brought them down to the ground, as she tugged him inside the Crest and closed the ramp. He felt tears rise up, the burning in the back of his throat so unfamiliar.   
“We can’t leave them,” he tried, body weak, slumping when she set him down to start pulling out things to patch his still bleeding wound.    
“We can’t, Raga. We have to go back, we have t-”

“I don’t like it as much as you, but it’s better for two of us to come back than none at all!” She raised her voice at him, stunning Corin into silence. “They have ten minutes. They’ll make it back. Now shut up, before I knock my fist into your mouth and shut you up myself,” she threatened, tone back to its normal level, with a harder edge surrounding it. 

She moved down beside him, bandages and bacta in hand. She worked in silence, air heavy in the cargo hold, as Corin’s vision flickered in and out. He felt gloved hands tug up his shirt, not willing to remove his armour just yet. He felt Raga begin to clean his wound, but his head had slumped back against the wall behind him. In the safety of the Razor Crest, all he could do was stare at the closed ramp, and repeat to himself.  
_ Ten minutes. Ten minutes.  _

His vision went dark, with the thought that he had lied. They both weren’t coming back. 


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! I am back! I am so sorry it took so long, but I finally found time to sit down, and write something that wasn't complete garbage.   
> This chapter is what I like to call "how to get from point a to point b" because I have so many ideas in my head, and where I want to take this played out, but I needed a way to get there.  
> This chapter is it!
> 
> Sorry it's a bit short. I just wanted to give y'all an update, and I have already started working on the new chapter so expect that early next month! Thank you all for being so patient, and as always, please comment! I love reading them so, so much <3

He didn’t know how long he had been out. He didn’t even know where he was, when Corin finally opened his eyes. His body ached, specifically the wound in his stomach. It stung, as he tried to sit up. A hand pressed against the bandaged wound, and he let out a small groan as he pushed up into a sitting position. Slowly, he began to recognise his surroundings, the gray of the Razor Crest, the cabinets and the cargo that always filled the belly of the ship.    
He remembered just as quickly. 

He remembered Din, essentially forcing him away from the fray, forcing Raga to take him to safety, away from him, away from certain death. He recalled Raga yelling, bandaging his wound, the pain evident in her voice at the prospect of leaving Din and Paz behind.   
Did they leave them? Did they make it back in those ten crucial minutes?

Panic, and the stricken desire to know if his Mandalorian had made it back brought Corin unsteadily to his feet. His hand braced against the wall beside him to assist him up, his breath coming heavy in combatment against the pain. There was no sign of the two Mandalorians where he had been left by Raga. To the cockpit, with a dwindling hope, he moved towards. 

It was staggering, his legs not quite cooperating with him yet, as he inched slowly to the ladder that led up. Corin practically collapsed against the rungs, hands curling tightly around the metal to ensure he stayed up right. One, by one, he pulled himself upwards. The exertion, and stretching of his body tugged at his wound - but Raga had done a good job bandaging it. The dressing stayed firm across his midsection.   
Finally up top, he held his breath, as the cockpit doors opened up.

Corin felt his stomach drop, his heart break, and his knees give way at the sight that greeted him. One lone Mandalorian sat at the helm of the Razor Crest. Raga was the only one there. Din didn’t make it.    
He didn’t make it back to him.

He faintly heard the sound of the pilot’s chair swivelling around, and Raga saying his name, concern heavy. But blood was rushing in his ears, his eyes burned with tears. 

“Corin,” came Raga’s voice, as a gloved hand was placed on his shoulder. Her voice was soft, trying to soothe, comfort, but he would have none of it. This was his fault.  _ His fault.  _   
If he hadn't gotten hurt, Din would be there with them. He would be flying the Crest, and leading them back to the Covert.    
“Corin, you shouldn’t be up and moving,” Raga tried again, her hand resorting to running soothing motions against his shoulder. His head was bowed, staring had his hands that held him up in a crouching motion, knees buckled underneath him. Slowly, the first warm tear rolled down his cheek, then spattered against the floor below him. 

“They didn’t make it,” he croaked out, voice raw with emotion. “Raga, they aren’t here.  _ He’s not here. _ ”   
There was a small intake of breath from the female Mandalorian, muffled by her helmet, but he caught it anyway. The movement of her hand ceased, but she did not remove it.   
“I waited,” she began, “even after you passed out, I waited. I paced, and waited, far longer than ten minutes. I’m sorry Corin.” 

“Why didn’t you go back for them?” He found himself asking, lifting his head to finally stare at her. What a sight he must be - eyes burning with tears, dirt certainly on his face, pale from his injury.    
“Why did you  _ leave? _ ”

“And get myself killed? Then you? Corin, they fought so we could make it back to the Covert. I wasn’t going to make their sacrifice vain.” Raga explained, voice taking on a harder tinge, not liking the accusations thrown her way. She didn’t want to leave. Her best friend was back there. Two men she grew up with were back there, and she  _ ran.  _

She made sense. Of course she made sense. Corin knew that’s what needed to be done. It was better they made it back, than none of them, but it still didn’t fix the heartache he felt, the sense of utter loss that plagued him where he sat. Din was gone. The sole person who made him feel like something more than an Empire grunt. The sole person who gave him a reason to keep moving on. The person who gave him the closest thing he’s ever had to a real family, was left behind on some backwater planet, all for some shot down supplies.   
Gods, he had asked him to marry him, and Corin never got to explain the joy he felt when he had asked, despite the circumstances the question came from. He had never found out how Din had truly felt when he asked. Was it because he had to, to protect his right to be a Mandalorian, or was there something else?

“It should’ve been me.” Corin breathed out, bringing his hands up to hold his head. “It should’ve been me, Raga. I can’t do this without him. The Kid, oh gods the Kid. I can’t do this, I can’t without him,” his breath was coming quick, fear and pain gripping him. Din wasn’t here. He had to do this all on his own now. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t know how to survive - running from the Empire, the bounty on the Child’s head.    
Din held all the answers. He made sure they lived through every night. How would he go on?

A hand moved to the back of his neck, much smaller than the one he was used to, but it snapped through his sense of impending panic enough for him to raise his gaze back to Raga.  
“You must.” She said, voice encouraging in a way only Raga knew how to make it seem. “This is the Way.” 

The words, spoken from a Mandalorian to someone like him struck him to his very core. He blinked, once or twice, body tired, and slowly nodded.   
He would try. No matter how much it pained him, to live a life without the Mandalorian by his side, he would try. He would think about brown eyes, and golden skin. He would think about all the times a cool helmet pressed to his forehead, and a soft voice told him everything would be alright. He would think about the long flights in the Razor Crest, the happiness he felt at knowing he had a place to belong.   
He would try to go on, for the Child, for the sacrifice Din gave because he wanted Corin to live. 

He was grateful, despite how scared he had been, that he got to see the Mandalorian’s face at least once. He was grateful, he got to know what it was like to look into the eyes of the man he cherished most.   
Corin just wished he could have told him all these things, and so much more. 

**Author's Note:**

> I am unsure how often I will update, but I will try my best to do it at least twice a month!


End file.
